Together
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: It couldn't end without them doing something together. /Sam and Amelie and the scene that precedes their capture in Carpe Corpus


SamAmelie, set in the time leading up to their capture by Bishop.

Written for **Lucy** [WeasleySeeker] & **Flying Penguinz**, because I love both of them and I am a horrible person to the former.

I don't own anything.

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They were hidden away underground, planning for their coup to take their town back, and nobody _quite_ knew what to do.

The day dawned cold, grey and oppressive, and Amelie couldn't help but find the parallels with their situation, couldn't help notice that it reflected her mood perfectly; whilst she was certain of victory, given how long she had been plotting this, there was always the possibility that the savageness of her father would mean that she failed. There was a chance that Myrnin or herself could perish – or Oliver, or John, or Claire, or any of the others who would happen to be in the stage's vicinity when it happened – because Bishop would take a prisoner and feed on them. That much was obvious; it was what he had always done, take one of the apparently defeated vampires and destroy them himself.

It was what Amelie was counting on, anyway.

As Amelie looked out of the tiny window in the abandoned flat they had set up their base in, she sighed, knowing this could well be the last time she saw the sun rise…with her full sanity, of course. There would be tomorrow…or so she hoped. Things were not yet completely in place for Oliver to betray them today; that would have to come tomorrow. She wouldn't lie to herself; she was petrified that _she_ would be the one her father chose to kill, that he would make an example out of her _because_ she was his daughter, and that if he could kill his own flesh and blood, he would annihilate every single enemy in his path.

She only wanted someone to talk to, someone who she could share this feeling of fear with – after all, whilst she was Amelie the Founder, she was still Amelie, still felt the residue of human emotions…and the strongest of those was fear. Fear and panic, they overrode everything in her at this point. Yet she couldn't burden the one man who she could speak freely with, could she? Sam was not to be harmed; that much had been clear in her orders - he should be kept as far away from the melee as possible, because if only one of them deserved to survive, it was him.

There was a knock on the door to her makeshift office in the once abandoned flat that marked their preparatory base, and Amelie tore her eyes away from the sun long enough to call, "enter."

The door opened slowly, and there stood Sam, the man she needed the most and yet the least, simultaneously. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her that everything was going to be alright (even though she knew this was a lie, really) and that they could be happy together afterwards…and at the same time, she didn't want to see him. His presence reminded her that there was a chance she would lose, because Bishop played on his enemies' weaknesses, and Sam was most definitely her only one…he was in danger because of her, an imminent danger that never seemed to pass, and to allow herself to be close to him now could spell the end.

"Are you alright?" he asked her as he stepped into the room, shutting the door on Oliver giving the orders she had given him to their other followers. Things were coming together, and yet with every step they took towards victory, Amelie became more nervous; she worried for Sam, for herself, for little Claire Danvers, who always seemed to be in the middle of everything, and yet still found a way to be Amelie's saving grace.

Amelie turned to face Sam, pushing her hair over one shoulder as she did so, because tying it back didn't seem right, not when she was a rebel in the town. Her dress had changed, becoming dark and casual, so why not her hair, too?

(She most certainly didn't think about how Sam preferred her hair like this.)

Giving him a small, sad smile, Amelie shook her head and replied, "no, Samuel, I am not alright. We are very close to the end of this war, and—" she didn't – couldn't – finish. She couldn't explain to him things that he didn't know, things that she had deliberately kept from him because she knew that he would want to be part of the plan. And that was the one thing that she couldn't allow; anyone could die…anyone but Sam.

"And you're afraid that you'll be the one he chooses to kill," Sam finished for her, taking a step towards her so that they were almost touching. She was sure the shock registered on her face at just _how_ he knew what they were going to do, because he smiled ever so slightly and reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. "I was listening to your conversation three nights ago, Amelie. Secret conversations in the garden only work when there aren't others wandering around."

She gasped slightly, a completely involuntary reaction, because _he wasn't supposed to know!_ It was meant to be that he remained here whilst the rest of them left…all of them besides Amelie. She was meant to be the only one here when Bishop came for her, and yet now he knew, there would be no way that he would leave her.

"Sam, you can't stay here, you _can't_; it's too dangerous." Immediately, she found herself pleading with him, because now he was here, she knew what the next step would be: he would try and take the poison with her, to be with her right until the end. That was what he had promised he would do when she turned him into a vampire, and that was what she knew he would attempt to do.

He shook his head slowly and closed the last of the gap between them; she could wrap her arms around him now, if she wanted to, and oh, how she wanted to! How she wanted to feel safe for all of a few moments, to feel as though she had love to add to her reasons for desiring victory.

"Wherever you are, I will be," he told her, his voice serious, his eyes even more so. As their sapphire colour bore into her comparatively boring grey, she understood just how impossible it would be to try and deter him; it was something she had been attempting to do for fifty long, arduous years, and it was something she would be doing right until the end. "I won't leave you, not even if you try and make me. I know what your plan is. I _will_ be part of this."

Amelie found tears coming to her eyes, yet she didn't wipe them away. "I'm scared, Samuel. And if I am scared that…that this could be the end, then so should you. And yet I find you more valiant, less fearful than even the oldest and most experienced of fighters. But you should be scared. You should be so, so _scared_."

Somehow, within the space of the end of her speaking and her giving way to the sobs that had been threatening to consume her for many a year, Sam wrapped her in his arms, the comforting feeling of security soothing her only slightly. After all, who knew how much longer she would have the option of being with her one true love – she most certainly didn't know.

She felt his lips press to the top of her head, soft and gentle, as he always had been, before he murmured, "you have no need to be scared, Amelie; you are the most capable, brilliant and thoroughly prepared woman I have ever met. You…you are the modern day Boudica, the woman who defied everything she hated because she wanted to protect what she had."

Amelie shrugged slightly, sighing as she did so. "Is she not the one who fought the Romans, and then was defeated, so she swallowed poison rather than be captured by her enemy?" she asked, wondering if the slight irony that she was planning on doing almost an identical thing was intended by her beloved. He was certainly well enough read that he would be aware of any similarities between the mythical woman and herself.

Sam nodded, the movement causing him to rub against her head slightly, and said, "yes, she did that; she was brave and fearless in the face of danger – just like you. Don't be scared, my sweet Amelie. You have no need to fear what will happen; Bishop will take someone, and then your plan will work, just as all your others have."

Slowly, Amelie felt her chin being lifted by one of Sam's fingers and she made no move to try and stop him; she knew what he was going to do, and she wanted him to, because this was already a time of so many things being different – why not add this to the list? And so as their lips met, she lifted her hands to twist them into his hair, interlocking her fingers around strands of his copper hair, pulling him towards her, because this was what she had desired the most for so many years, and she was finally getting a chance to have it.

"I love you, Samuel." She felt the need to tell him this again, for fear that she would never see him again; as soon as he left, she would call Oliver in and inform him to change the plan. She would go to Bishop herself and arrange a negotiation, arrange _something_ that meant Sam would have no chance of being harmed. Now he knew of her plans, they couldn't occur, because she knew he would find a way to get involved.

"This isn't the end, you know," he told her, flashing her the grin that had made her fall in love with him, the one that showed his innocence. "We're going to make it through this…but only if we take this now."

Amelie looked down to the bottle in his hands: the poison. He had managed to snatch it from her desk sometime inbetween last night and now, and he was evidently intending on drinking some of it.

"No!" she hissed, reaching out to grab the bottle, yet the speed of his reflexes surprised her – he was evidently expecting this. "You are not to be risked, Sam! I cannot…I cannot allow my father to kill you. To ask me to allow you to be a part of this would be the cruelest thing you could ever ask me to do."

It was then that Amelie realised something: the mutterings about their plan had stopped, and the area outside of her temporary office was empty. They had all gone.

Sam had altered the plan.

With a sheepish smile, Sam uncorked the bottle and took a step away from Amelie to open the door to prove the theory she had just concluded. "I couldn't let you do it without me," he said in explanation, though it didn't help; Amelie sunk into the nearest chair, unable to believe what he had done. All her efforts to keep him safe – wasted. "When I heard what you planned to do, I spoke to Myrnin and Oliver, made them understand that this was what I wanted, and that I knew the risks. They agreed that it would work better than just you being the bait…so here we are, together, as I said we would be."

Sam moved closer to Amelie again, sinking down to his knees before her, looking up into her face, and she couldn't help but let the tears loose again. "I tried to protect you," she whispered, taking his free hand as she spoke. "I did everything I could to make sure you were safe, and that you wouldn't die. All I want is for you to live, Sam; you are the only one of us who deserves that right."

He smiled and shrugged slightly, lifting the bottle to be midway between the pair of them, the lid discarded on the floor somewhere. "We'll do it together, and we'll come out together, Amelie. You have no need to be scared, as I told you before. You're Boudica, the warrior queen who defended her lands until her last breath, and I'm your soldier, the one bound to you forever. You will never be without me." Twisting the hand of his she held, he leaned over to press his lips to the back of her hand softly.

"You're more than that," she murmured, using her other hand to move his face so that they could look into the other's eyes once again. "You're my equal, my partner, the man who has changed me. For that, I thank you.

"It is down to you that I know how to love."

And with that, she pulled Sam to his feet as she moved to her own, and took his hand, the one that held the bottle of poison. Somewhere in Morganville, Oliver was revealing her location, Myrnin was perfecting the last part of his disguise and others had no idea that this was the last day of Bishop's rule. She had not banked on it being today – she thought she would have this evening to tell Sam everything she had told him in the last few minutes – but now it was the time for the poison to spread through her veins.

"Together," she told him, looking into his eyes as she lifted the bottle to his mouth. "We'll be together, Samuel, forever, no matter what happens. I swear it."

_I'll never leave you, Samuel._

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